What I Wasn't Looking For
by PaperFrames
Summary: Olivia hates her professor. Sometimes she wishes he'd just disappear. But when an emergency strikes he proves to be a blessing in disguise. (AU Olitz)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So this isn't anything you're expecting me to update and when I sat down to write this morning, I hadn't intended on writing this. Alas, sometimes your muse controls you. This has a definite ending in mind and it won't be long. Matter of fact, all intentions were for this to be a one-shot, but the neighbor down the street decided to knock everyone's power out by doing stupid things and reviews are a nice pick me up.

I feel a lot better and my health is swinging upward. Hopefully I'll have electricity soon and won't have to stow away in Starbucks and can finish the Metanoia update.

* * *

"I'm here! I'm here, I'm here!" Olivia Pope shouts as she speeds towards her classroom door. Passerby's lingering in the hallway throw her looks of scorn and incredulity at the volume of her voice. She pays them no mind, though, her thoughts concentrated on the man in front of her with a scowl on his face and his hand on the door.

Professor Grant.

"I'm here!" she shouts once more, as if he hadn't heard. She nearly collides into his broad chest, but manages to skid to a halt on her heels at the last moment. She sighs, relief flooding her petite body; she's made it. Olivia moves to step past him into the full lecture hall, but he stops her-arm jutting out as a makeshift blockade between Olivia and the door.

He glances down at his watch and shakes his head.

"You're late. Again. Class starts at 11:10, not 11:18. Though I suppose I should be lucky you've even graced me with your presence," he bites. "You know the rule. Three strikes, you're out. Try again next week."

Disbelief ripples across Olivia's cheeks. He can't be serious right now. She'd damn near twisted her ankle to get here. She definitely owed that man on the train an apology for dumping coffee on him in her haste.

"By eight minutes! Eight minutes!" She contests, thinking about his final exam in two weeks and her incomplete outline. "Professor, the exam is—"

"Not my problem, Miss Pope, it's yours. Maybe one day you'll learn to get here on time. Hopefully it'll be before I'm forced to fail you for missing class." He shoos her away from the door, shutting it with a finite click.

Olivia's face falls as her eyes meet the solid oak of classroom door. She hears Professor Grant's muffled voice begin to belt out the lesson of the day. Tears swell in her doe eyes and she chokes them back. Dejection sets in and she pivots, feet like lead as she heads back from the way she'd just came.

She pulls out her cell and dials the number she knows by heart.

"Hey, Abs, it's me. Yeah, I didn't make it."

/

Exhaustion seeps into Olivia's bones as she climbs the steps to her one bedroom apartment. From the outside of the door she can hear uninhibited laughter, child-sized giggles of joy. The sound causes Olivia's cheeks to tug upward into a soft smile, her tired eyes raw and puffy from crying crinkling with delight. She's just spent the entirety of the ride from Georgetown back to Navy Yard crying, thankful for the reprieve of an empty metro cart. Now it's time to put on a brave face for the little girl waiting for her on the other side of the door.

She pauses first, standing and listening to the laughter. Her keys are like lead pipes in her hand. Life is a constant uphill climb for her at the moment. Ten steps forward thirty-nine back. She just needs a minute to breathe before the weight of her responsibilities crash down on her petite shoulders. The wood of her apartment door is cool against her throbbing temple as she presses her head against the door. _Just one minute._ Her eyes glimpse the gold watch on her wrist. The long hands move from the twelve around the face, bypassing one through eleven. As the hands close on the twelve once more, signalling her sixty seconds are up, she slips the key into the lock and slowly swings the door open.

"Momma!" Olivia hears as a flash of chestnut curls and buttery brown skin fly into her arms.

"Hey, baby," Olivia whispers, bending down to press a kiss against the crown of her seven year old daughter's head. Somehow the weight on her shoulders seems simultaneously lighter and heavier with her daughter wrapped around her waist. "Did you have fun with Aunt Abby?"

"I did! We made pancakes, we watched Moana, and colored. And uh, Aunt Abby painted my nails…" Francesca, better known as Frankie, explains, shoving a handful of bright blue nails into her mother's face.

Olivia raises an eyebrow in the direction of her best friend, silently reprimanding the redhead for indulging the seven-year-old. Olivia didn't mind Frankie playing in makeup, etc. but what she did mind was it being done without her permission.

"Momma, I thought you had to go to school? Did you get the day off like me for professional development?" Frankie asks.

Olivia shakes her head. "No baby. I did have school, but I was a bad student. I was late and my professor didn't want me to disrupt his class so he couldn't let me in," she explains, a somber smile falls across her face.

"Well that's just rude! You're not a bad student. Your teacher is just mean! Isiah comes to school late all the time and he still gets to do his times tables!" Frankie declares, angry on her mother's behalf.

Olivia smiles at her daughter's simplistic view of the world and righteous, indignant anger. If only she understood.

"I agree. Grant is a gigantic di—" Abby starts.

"Abby! Frankie!" Olivia quickly interrupts, chin jutting out in the direction of her daughter.

Abby shrugs her shoulders. "You weren't even _that_ late, he just felt like being an a-s-s. Someone needs to put him in check. He can't wield his power like that. He's a professor, not the f-u-c-k-i-n-g Queen of England."

"F-u-c-k…" Frankie tries to string the letters together, counting them out on her tiny fingers. The bright blue nail polish pops against her golden skin. Francesca Pope is like her mother, too smart for her own good and sometimes too intense for her own well-being.

"Frankie, baby, go get your homework so we can do it. You know, what you should've been doing instead of those nails..." Olivia points out with a raise of an eyebrow and a quick glance between Frankie and Abby.

Both Abby and Frankie look away.

"Mhmm, homework."

Frankie pouts before turning on her heels and disappearing down the hall to the bedroom she and her mother share in flurry of curls and light footfalls.

Olivia grimaces as she makes her way to the couch, throwing herself down on the piece of furniture and sighing heavily. Abby follows suit, turning off the long abandoned television.

"Liv, you look like you're about to crumble into a million pieces," Abby says.

Once more Olivia can feel tears swell in her eyes. She is close to crying. Again. After the sobs she'd let out on the metro, it's amazing she has anything left in her.

"What'd Grant say to you?"

A heavy sigh saunters from Olivia's plump lips, the bottom one quivers, a sure sign she's seconds from tears. "He's going to fail me if I keep showing up late and missing class. I can't fail, Abbs. Then I prove everyone right — I become another stereotype."

"Olivia, don't," Abby warns. "You've made it into one of the top law schools in the country while raising a daughter on your own. Yes, you had her young, but look at her and look at yourself. That little girl loves you. Don't let Grant's lack of being laid interfere with your self-perception."

Olivia gives Abby a watery smile, wiping away tears as they fall from her eyes. She just wants to give up, throw in the towel, and let it be. At twenty-four, she's so tired that she feels well-worn beyond her age. While most twenty-four year-old's were partying on the weekend, throwing keggers and trading drugs, Olivia spends her free time trying to raise her seven-year-old in a too cramped apartment while managing her own life. Too many times Olivia's sat up well past midnight finishing her own homework after spending all day showing Frankie how to do hers.

"I can't keep calling you to save my ass, though, Abby. Especially when nothing comes of it."

"Liv, don't. That's my niece in there. I'm more than happy to help. If I'm able to get here, I will get here. Okay? I just wish I would've gotten here sooner." Abby pats Olivia's knee, squeezing it gently.

It's a gesture of comfort Olivia feels she doesn't deserve.

"You're the only person who has been here. I can't believe Jake. She's his daughter too. I didn't climb on top of myself and get myself pregnant. He's such a fu—"

"Here!" Frankie shouts, barreling back into the living quarters with a piece of paper Olivia knows isn't her only homework.

Olivia sighs in frustration, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but failing. "Oh, Francesca, I know that's not it. Come on, baby. Make this easy for momma."

Frankie rolls her eyes in a dramatic fashion, sighing heavily as she makes her way back towards the bedroom.

From the other side of the couch, Abby laughs. "She's your twin, I hope you know that. You might not have climbed on top of yourself to make her, but you can tell that you put in all the work."

It's Olivia's turn to roll her eyes now, making a mental note to talk to Frankie about her dramatics later. "How much _work_ can one really put in at sixteen?"

"Clearly enough to get the job done," Abby shoots back as Frankie barrels back into the room, this time carrying most of the items her mother had specified.

/

 _I'm a horrible mother. I am an awful mother. Someone should take her from me._ Olivia curses herself internally as she takes hurried strides towards Professor Grant's classroom.

Two weeks have passed since her last showdown with Grant. Since then Olivia's done everything from cut showers, to beg her parents for help, in a concentrated effort to pass his class and wipe her hands clean of the man.

Today is her final, today is the last day she'll ever have to deal with him in her remaining tenure as a law student. Today is it, and of course everything has gone wrong in the last twenty-four hours.

Her hair is piled sloppily on top of her head, she wears sweats, and carries a sick Frankie on her hip. The little girl coughs pathetically, her warm forehead pressed into the crook of her mother's neck.

"My tummy, mommy," Frankie cries.

"I know baby, I know."

Olivia walks into the barren lecture hall, sliding Frankie into a front seat and opening a bottle of Pedialyte for the child. She slides into the seat next to her baby, her heart tugging at the look of misery etched into her daughter's face.

Frankie has a fever that refuses to break along with a stomach ache. The ER doctor from the night prior promised she'd be okay, that doesn't stop the fear from spreading through Olivia's heart. If anything were to happen to Frankie, Olivia would die. Gently Olivia reaches out to brush back Frankie's frizzy curls.

"Momma's gonna finish this exam quickly and then we're going to go home and get in a cool shower and sleep, okay?"

Frankie nods, dropping her head down onto the wooden desk. Her eyes flutter shut and a knot forms in Olivia's throat.

 _She looks so sick, what am I doing? Forcing her to sit here while I take this stupid exam._

Tears swell in Olivia's eyes and she wipes at the puffy skin just above her cheeks. "I promise I'll hurry, baby…."

"Miss Pope, who is this?" Professor Grant questions, his deep voice bouncing off the walls of the almost empty lecture hall.

He comes out of nowhere, his brow stern, his arms crossed.

Olivia narrows her eyes at the sight of him, trying to stop herself from a sarcastic retort. "My daughter, Professor," she states dryly.

"And why is she here?" he asks coolly.

Venom fills Olivia's mouth, her stomach coils with rage.

"This isn't a daycare center, Miss—"

She's had it. "I know that, Professor Grant. I pay my too expensive tuition that eventually trickles down to your salary, after all. And my sick child is here because my babysitter cancelled on me; her father is a deadbeat; her aunt is out of town, and getting my parents to help me isn't worth the blood I'd have to spill or the sore knees I'd have from begging. Contrary to popular belief, single motherhood isn't exactly a trip to the damn beach. So either let me take my examine in peace while my daughter minds her own business or kick me out. I'm tired of you threatening to fail me."

She doesn't realise tears are dripping from her eyes until she feels them slide down her cheeks. Nonetheless, she holds strong, chin jutted upwards in defiance and her chest heaving. Her eyes dare him to challenge her fury. But he doesn't.

Professor Grant's facial expression softens, he crosses the room, and bends down in front of where Frankie sits. He searches for the little girl's eyes.

"What's her name?" he asks softly.

The shift in his tone catches Olivia off guard. Her brows crinkle together and she wipes away the tears hanging on her chin with the back of her hand. "Francesca, but she prefers Frankie."

"Hey, Frankie. My name is Fitz. You don't look like you feel too well."

Frankie looks up at her mom with her bright brown eyes, asking for silent permission to speak to this virtual stranger. Olivia nods.

"My head's hot and my belly hurts," Frankie whispers.

"I bet you'd rather be at home sleeping than here, wouldn't you?" His tone is soft and comforting, like warm cotton fresh from the dryer.

Frankie nods against the desktop.

"How about we get your home then, okay?" he suggests before standing and turning to Olivia. "Miss Pope, pack your daughter up and go home. Call me when she feels better and we can reschedule your exam."

Olivia stares at Professor Grant, confusion coloring her face. The word why sits on the end of her tongue, but she doesn't say it.

"Go. I will not fail you, you have my word. She's your priority right now. Go take care of her." Fitz pushes, returning to the wooden desk at the front of the lecture hall.

While he's away, Olivia slowly begins to pack her things, wiping at her raw eyes. She prods an increasingly grumpy Frankie out of the desk and into her arms. Once more Frankie settles into her mother's hold. She's burning up against Olivia's skin. As the duo heads up to the exit, skipping around entering students, Fitz stops them. He holds out a card with numbers hastily scrawled on the back.

"That's my cell. Give me a call at about 4:30 today. Underneath is a number for my friend Stephen, he's a pediatrician. Tell him I sent you. Take care of her. Then we can discuss rescheduling your exam."

Olivia takes the card, her fingers brushing against his as she does. A jolt of electricity shoots up Olivia's arms where their fingers touch.

Professor Grant gives her an apologetic smile.

/

Stephen Finch is a tall man with a slight Scottish accent. He has a welcoming smile and is clearly phenomenal with children. Frankie doesn't protest as he checks her vitals, she doesn't throw a fit when he takes a vial of blood, or prods her puffy stomach; she only winces slightly.

According to Dr. Finch, the ER had been terribly wrong. Frankie does not have a common cold, but rather the onset of appendicitis. He offers Olivia one of two choices for treatment, antibiotics or surgery. Antibiotics, he tells Olivia, is a rather new method of treatment, while surgery is tried and true.

With tears in her eyes, Olivia painfully chooses the surgery route. The thought of someone cutting her daughter open nearly rips her apart. Stephen gives Olivia a sympathetic smile as he admits Frankie to the Children's National Medical Center.

That night Olivia lays scrunched up in a child's hospital bed, rocking her daughter to sleep. Surgery is set for early morning and Olivia isn't certain who's more terrified, she or Frankie. With Abby being away, Olivia's completely alone. She's made an attempt to call Jake, catching his voicemail instead.

Sometimes she wishes she could go back in time, visit her sixteen year old self, and warn the young girl about the boy she thought she loved. She'd let him talk her into bed and without a condom. He'd assured her the pull-out method was full proof. Nine-months, ten hours of labor, and a seventeenth birthday later, she begged to differ. As much as she thought about what it'd be like to do things differently, the young girl curled into her side proves it wouldn't be worth it.

Francesca Ann Pope is the love of her life.

Olivia strokes her daughter's loose braids, watching as Frankie's chest rises and falls. Her own eyelids feel like lead, but each time she closes them the worst case scenario pops into her head. A soft knock tears her from her thoughts. Olivia looks up to find Professor Grant standing in the doorway. He carries a large Teddy Bear and a few balloons that read 'Get Well Soon' on them.

"Professor Grant, what are you doing here?" Olivia asks, uncertain whether or not her eyes are betraying her.

"Please, Miss Pope, call me Fitz. Stephen told me he admitted Frankie so I thought I'd drop this off." He shakes the bear and balloons.

A pang of guilt bounces up Olivia's spine at his kind gesture. She'd been so awful to him earlier. The things she'd said, the venom in her voice, yet….

"Professor, you didn't have to; I mean you're the reason we're even here. Dr. Finch figured this out when the ER told me she was just being difficult."

"Fitz," he corrects, "and I know I didn't have to, but I did."

"Thank you, Prof—" He raises an eyebrow and Olivia corrects herself. "Fitz."

Fitz smiles and an awkward silence falls between them. Olivia's fingers still in Frankie's braids and from across the room Fitz rocks on his heels, treasures still in hand.

"I'll, uhm, I'll just put this down and head out." He hurries into the room, sets the bear down on the window ledge, and then turns to leave, but pauses in front of the bed. "Are you and Frankie alone?" he asks.

It's a simple question, not too invasive, but nonetheless it leaves Olivia in tears. Large droplets roll down her cheeks and hang from her chin as she nods. Gently she extricates herself from Frankie's sleep induced death grip. The little girl rolls over, curls into a ball on her side, tucking her hands beneath her chin.

Olivia makes a beeline for the bathroom, embarrassed by her tears. She presses the tips of fingers into the skin beneath her eyes, trying her hardest to make the tears stop, but the emotion is too raw. She stands in front of the child-sized sink, trying — and failing — to pull herself together.

For the last seven years she's been alone.

 _Keeping this child is your choice, Olivia. If you keep it, do not expect your mother and I to raise it. How could you become a stereotype? How could you be so common? How can you not want more?_

"Miss Pope?"

Olivia turns to find Professor Grant — Fitz — standing behind her. His arms stretch outward and he gently pulls her into a soft embrace. She doesn't fight, doesn't protest as he rubs her back soothingly. He doesn't push her away when snot rolls down her face and she inadvertently uses his shirt as Kleenex.

"I'm just so tired and just so _scared,_ " Olivia admits. "Her father won't answer his phone. I haven't even tried my parents yet, but I never know how they feel about Frankie. Sometimes I feel like they see her as a burden — my downfall and their shame." She continues, unsure of why she's telling this to her professor of all people.

"I know how important it is to have a support system in times like this, Olivia," Grant squeezes her shoulders tightly. "When my son had a staph infection, I nearly lost my mind. His mother was too busy for him and all my father could do was berate me about how I'd let it happen. I understand and if you'd like, I am more than happy to stay with you both."

Slowly Olivia begins to pull herself together. She takes a step back, considering his offer. It isn't anywhere near appropriate. Is it? Until she takes his examine, she's still his student. Aren't they crossing some invisible line?

The question remains unanswered as a soft and sleep filled "mommy" sounds from bed. Olivia immediately turns on her toes and makes her way to Frankie, who sits up in bed, tears in her eyes.

"I woke up and you weren't here," Frankie cries, holding her arms out for Olivia. Once more Olivia slides into bed and pulls Frankie into her lap. She begins to rock Frankie to and fro.

Wordlessly, Fitz takes the seat next to the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I'm surprised by the response to this, a bit overwhelmed, too. Any who, thank you. This chapter is a bit small because it was originally meant to be apart of the first. I just cleaned it up and decided to publish since you all took to this so well.

We get one back story and a partial backstory here.

TW: abortion mention.

* * *

"I would've gone somewhere and bought us something better than this," Fitz says, a slight smile tugging at his lips. He holds up a fish stick between his thumb and pointer, wiggling it.

Across the narrow cafeteria table, Olivia shakes her head and playfully chides him, "my seven year old doesn't even play with her food."

"You would subject her to this?" He questions, tossing the fish stick onto the linoleum table top. The questionable meat bounces once, twice before coming to a halt millimeters from the edge. It jiggles a bit before finally settling.

Olivia giggles and the sound, while welcomed, is a bit too sweet for Fitz's ears. He finds himself leaning into it, yearning to hear it once more. It's infectious, along with the smile tugging at her cheeks.

 _She's your student, stop._

"You're right, I wouldn't."

"See, I rest my case. Let me go buy us breakfast."

"Because she's allergic to seafood, not because she's too impatient to wait for the staff to put out breakfast, and chose to instead eat 2am hospital cafeteria leftovers at seven in the morning."

"Touché." Fitz yawns, checking his watch. He's been here all night and morning, unable to tear himself away from the young woman in front of him. "Patience has never been my strength."

"Oh, I know."

He frowns, an apology on the tip of his tongue.

Contrary to what Olivia may think, he does not have it out for her. She is, in fact, one of his most intelligent students. From her first cold call, taking his hypothetical head on to an almost flawless first exam, Olivia's proven to be brilliant. He's been disappointed by her behavior and wishes she'd told him what is going on with her. He's not an unreasonable man. Or at least he doesn't think he is. If only she had told him about her situation. He understands.

"You don't have to babysit me, professor. Please. Go home."

"Fitzgerald or Fitz, Olivia. Beyond the walls of Georgetown, my name is not professor. Okay? And I'm not babysitting you. I'm filling in for your sister Gabby."

"Abby, prof—"

Fitz raises a brow, she truly is stubborn.

"Fitz."

"Thank you. Now, I'm here because you need support. You need distraction. And who better to provide both than your professor."

Olivia smiles wide, rolling her eyes. "You just said —and I quote — beyond the walls of Georgetown, my name is not professor."

"Correct, future counselor. My _name_ is not professor, but it still is my profession."

Olivia groans dramatically, pushing her tray away from her. "Semantics."

"They matter."

"I know."

Their banter trails off into distracted silence. Olivia's gaze falls to the table, her hands clasped in front of her. Fitz finds his eyes roaming, wandering, and noticing small details about the woman sitting in front of him. Her face is heart shaped and her lips form a natural pout; there's a small scar, nearly invisible, on her right cheek beneath her eye; a black beauty mark peeks out from beneath the neckline of a t-shirt that nearly drowns her tiny frame; lastly, her nails are an electric blue, a color he definitely wouldn't expect her to wear. He smiles as he takes it all in when a sniffle catches his ear. His pulled from his daze as two lone tears slip down her sharp cheeks.

She lifts her chin, worry contorts her features. "You think she's okay?"

"I do. Especially if she's anything like her mother."

"She's a lot tougher than me, actually. A lot more fearless, too. She's my Supergirl."

Fitz smiles, listening intently. His heart swells as she speaks of her daughter. He feels the same way about his children.

"My daughter is, too, which scares me and causes pride to bloom in my chest. She's thirteen and demands to do everything her fifteen year old brother does."

"Fifteen and thirteen? Wow."

"What?"

"You just don't look old enough to have a fifteen and thirteen year old, that's all."

Fitz chuckles at the comment, a bit of pride swelling within his chest. Some days he feels ancient. "I just turned thirty-nine. My ex-wife and I had Jerry rather young."

"I skipped my prom to rock my teething toddler to sleep, Pro — Fitz. Twenty-four isn't that young." Olivia pulls her knees against her chest, shrinking her already small frame even further.

Fitz raises his brow at her candidness and the imagery she conjures with her words.

"I'm not ashamed of her," Olivia adds. "I know my parents would prefer it if I was, but I'm not. I love her."

The corners of his mouth uptick into a smile. She loves her daughter, that much he can tell, but looks are deceiving. Had he never met Francesca Pope, he would never have guessed Olivia Pope to be a teenage mother.

"May I ask you a question, Olivia?"

"You want to know how I ended up as a statistic?"

Fitz tilts his head.

"You're not the first to wonder, but the answer is rather simple. Stupid impressionable girl, self centered and manipulative boy. Nine months later you have a little girl."

"I mean, you're just so very smart. I wouldn't think…"

"Sex doesn't involve much thinking, does it?"

"Not if you're doing it right."

Olivia's eyes widen and a beat passes before Fitz realises what he's said. His face flushes a bright red and he clears his throat.

"Uhm…" he stammers. "I just meant..."

"I know what you meant," Olivia interrupts, lips curling into a small but brief smile. She breathes in, as if she's bracing herself. "I used to wear a purity ring. Before Jake —Frankie's father — I'd sworn off sex until I met my Prince Charming. I'd seen girls in my grade and below me sleep with guys and get dumped seconds later. I didn't want that. I wanted the romance and the fairy tale. And when I was sixteen I thought I'd found that."

He's thankful for the somewhat change in subject, the deflection of the spotlight. Fitz pushes his own tray away, and leans against the table, ready to listen.

"Jake was eighteen, a senior, star baseball player. I was assigned to tutor him in Spanish and he hit on me from the start. He was attractive, kind of dimwitted, but cute. I'd mostly rebuffed his advances, at first. But eventually he wore me down with a mixed CD there, flowers here. It was a nice distraction from what was going on at home. My parents' marriage had hit a rough patch. they thought I didn't know, but I wasn't a fool. My dad wasn't sleeping on the couch because it was comfortable."

Fitz gives her a somber smile, thinking of his own divorce.

Across from him Olivia sighs, picking at her nails before continuing. "Long story short, Jake told me he loved me and I believed him. I let him talk me into bed without protection. A little more than two months later, he was high-fiving his friends for popping prude Pope —apparently my virginity was worth a couple hundred bucks and bragging rights— while I was throwing up in my mother's roses."

A tinge of unadulterated anger ripples up Fitz's spine. He doesn't know this Jake, but he knows his type; has seen his type come and go for years, taking advantage of women like Olivia. Briefly he thinks of his own daughter and the wolves den she's about to enter in another year. He'll kill someone.

"I'm guessing he didn't care too much when you told him?"

"When I told him I was pregnant, he asked me by who. The irony, huh?"

"Irony…" Fitz repeats. "That wouldn't have been my word of choice. I take it your parents took it better?"

She laughs, but its neither jovial nor carefree. There's pain in her voice as she speaks. "My mom cried and my dad dragged me to an abortion clinic. I hadn't even thought about that yet. I was still trying to wrap my head around even being pregnant. The counselor at the clinic refused to perform the operation because I couldn't consent to it. I was hysterical, my dad was enraged and I really wish that night could be wiped from my memory. My mother brought up adoption and by June I was finishing my Junior year up five months pregnant from my dining room table. My parents — my father specifically — couldn't fathom everyone knowing my dirty little secret."

"I assume they had a change of heart?"

"No, they didn't. A nurse made a mistake. They — my mom and dad — had a nice family picked out to take Frankie. They were both in their thirties. An architect and teacher. And then I went into labor. Ten hours later she was here. I wasn't supposed to touch my baby; they were supposed to take her right away. But the nurse let me hold my baby; she put Frankie in my arms and I'd never felt love like that before. It came without stipulations, without strings and I decided I couldn't give her up. My father nearly went through the roof and while my mother didn't say it, I knew she was disappointed in me, too."

"I'm sorry. Parents are supposed to love their children unconditionally," Fitz offers sincerely. His heart aches for her.

"My parents are anything but unconditional. Everything with them comes with strings. I'm surprised they didn't kick me and Frankie out after I refused to give her up. I guess they were more worried about what it'd look like for them to put me out with an infant rather than for me to raise one in their house."

Again, Fitz frowns. Guilt swells in his stomach for his past transgressions against the young woman in front of him. He's been hard on her, but probably not harder than she's been on herself. And admittedly, he's thoroughly impressed by her strength. She clearly doesn't have supportive parents, nor a father for her daughter, yet she's managed to finish high school, undergraduate, and is on her way to solidifying her stance as a brilliant legal mind.

"You're amazing, you know that, Miss Pope."

Olivia ducks her head. Her cheeks swelling. "Olivia, _Fitz._ And I'm not. I chose to take on this responsibility. It's not amazing, it's called being a mother."

"You're amazing, Olivia," he repeats, locking eyes with her as she lifts her head. The world seems to slow as they stare at each other. The air between them is charged, heated. It scares Fitz as he tries to find his breath, his heart beating fast.

A loud buzzing sound breaks their gaze; it's Olivia's phone. She picks it up from the table and answers it without hesitation. "Hello? Yes this is she. Good. I'll be there in a second." She puts the phone into her purse that hangs off the back of her chair and stands up. "Frankie's out of surgery. She's in a recovery room."

"That's great. Let's get up to her."

"Pro — Fitz, you don't have to; you've been here all night and morning. It's okay if you go home."

"It's a Friday. Besides exams to grade, I have nothing for the day. Also, I don't think you understand what she might look like when you see her for the first time after surgery." He stands up, too, picking up their trays.

Olivia stares at him in confusion.

"Wires, tubes...it's not pretty. It's terrifying and I don't want you to face that alone."

/

They stand too close the elevator ride up to the fourth floor. No matter how many times she's told him to go home, he's stayed. And for that, she's grateful. Even if she's certain they've crossed several invisible lines today. She's shared parts of herself with him that only a select few have been privy to; parts of her life she would rather forget at times, yet he hasn't once looked at her with scorn or pity. Empathy and perhaps admiration, but nothing more. His gaze leaves Olivia feeling vulnerable, exposed, and she hates it.

The elevator comes to a halt and Olivia's stride picks up, eager to get back to her daughter. For a moment she forgets Professor Grant — Fitz — is behind her until she comes to an abrupt halt and he barrels into her.

Olivia's eyes narrow at the man standing at the desk. "I can't believe it. He actually showed up."

"What?"

"Jake. Frankie's dad. I could probably count on one hand how many times he's seen her since she was born." A mixed bag of emotions swirls within Olivia. She doesn't know whether to be relieved or angry at his appearance.

Fitz steps around her and Olivia notices his fists are clenched. "I guess better late than never?" There's a bite to his tone that shocks Olivia.

She steps around him, placing a hand on his right wrist, squeezing it gently. "Thank you."

"Olivia, what the hell happen?" Jake's voice sounds along with his approaching footsteps.

"Appendicitis, which I explained in my several voicemails and text messages."

"How could you let this happen?" Jakes asks in an accusatory tone.

"How could _I_ let this happen? I didn't _let_ it happen. It just _happened_."

"You're supposed to be taking care of her, Olivia!"

"I _am_! Don't you dare come in here and question my ability as a mother when your parents see her more than you!"

"I send you your check every month."

"She needs more than a check, Jake. She needs a father!"

"I _am_ her father."

"You're a glorified sperm donor. If it hadn't been for your parents, you would've never even taken half-assed responsibility for her."

"You self-righteous — " Jake starts. He takes a step forward, but he doesn't get far. Before she knows it, Fitz steps in between them.

"I suggest you don't finish that sentence, Jake," Fitz warns.

"Fitz…" Olivia grabs his wrist once more.

"This your new boyfriend? You got him around my daughter?"

"He's my friend and why are you even here?" Olivia hisses.

"Because you asked me!"

"Jake…" A feminine voice calls. For the first time since recognizing her ex-boyfriend, Olivia notices a woman standing next to him. She's petite, blonde, and holds onto his shirt.

"Just stay out of it, Vanessa."

"Excuse me, Miss Pope," a nurse calls, interrupting the reunion from hell.

Olivia's attention is split and she turns to stare at the nurse. "Yes?"

"Francesca's coming to, I thought you'd want to be there when she finally wakes up fully." The nurse's eyes roam towards Fitz. "You can come, too, if you'd like, Mr. Pope, I hadn't realized you were here. Both parents are allowed in post-op."

Olivia doesn't bother to correct her, although she hears Jake gearing up to; instead she seizes one of Fitz's hands. She feels him tense up beneath her touch briefly before relaxing his fingers in hers. "Which room?"

The nurse waves the pair on as Jake mumbles something indecipherable and Vanessa tells him to calm down.

/

"Mommy…" Frankie calls as soon as Olivia enters the room.

Olivia breaks out into a grin, her eyes feeling with tears. She doesn't realize it, but she's still holding Fitz's hand. When he squeezes her fingers, she squeezes his back before letting go. She rushes to Frankie's bedside, trying desperately to ignore the IV sticking out of her arm and the beeping of the heart monitor. Fitz is right, it isn't a pretty sight.

"Hey, baby."

"Where'd Pua go? We found the heart of Tafiti."

Olivia chuckles at her daughter's question and subsequent explanation, tears of happiness falling from her eyes. "You did, did you?"

"Uh huh and Beyoncé came. You're pretty, mommy."

"So are you, baby."

"I'm all better now? The electrician took the bad parts out? There's no more rocks in my tummy."

"Pediatrician, Frankie; and I have to talk to your doctor, but I think you are."

"Okay, mommy. Can we see the penguins next?"

"We can see the penguins next." Olivia sniffles, wiping at her eyes, and laughing even more at the miniature comedian that's become her daughter on anesthesia.

A deep chuckle sounds from behind her and she turns to find Fitz laughing. Olivia smiles at him briefly before turning her attention back to her daughter.

"And the ligers. So many ligers…" Frankie's eyes slip closed and her words trail off.

Despite Jake's untimely appearance and the lack of sleep she's had the last forty-eight hours, Olivia's never felt more relieved and grateful in her entire life.

Once again Olivia turns to Fitz, mouthing a small 'thank you.'


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I know it's been forever for this fic. Again, I'm moving cross country and sneaking in writing when I can manage it. Today I ended up having to take off work thanks to a summer cold. Also thanks to a summer cold, you got this.

I really hope you enjoy!

Until next time.

-M

* * *

"Do you think Mr. Fitz'll like his lunch?" Frankie asks as she wipes her clean wet hands on the neon pink apron wrapped around her waist. Her eyes are hopefully as she tilts her chin up to look at her mother.

Olivia smiles at her daughter's question, slipping the finished and somewhat sloppily decorated cupcakes into the large red picnic basket in the middle of the kitchen table. "Of course he will. You made them with love."

Satisfied with her mother's answer, Frankie hops down off the kitchen stool. "Good because I never want to make another cupcake again," she declares, wiping imaginary sweat from her brows. "I can't even eat one!"

Her daughter's dramatics causes Olivia to shake her head, a smile tugging on her cheeks. "You can have one tomorrow, when we get to the school."

Frankie groans, huffing, though accepting her mother's words. "Promise?"

"Promise," Olivia confirms as Frankie slides into her chair, legs swinging.

"Is Mr. Fitz still your teacher?"

"Kinda…" Olivia says, closing the lid of the basket. It's been nearly three weeks since Frankie's hospital stint; minus a small scar, the seven year old is back to her normal, inquisitive self. "He's still a professor, but I don't have to take any more of his classes. I'm taking different teachers."

"Well that's good, right? He won't have to give you any more tests again or be mean again. I won't like him if he's mean and he's nice now. I want him to stay nice."

"Me too," Olivia agrees, her daughter's words hitting home. In the three weeks since she'd lost her composure in front of the man formerly known as her professor, they've grown close. They've gone from sharing day old french fries, to sharing late night phone calls and texts. He's offered to bring Frankie by food and even gave Olivia a ride home after she'd completed her exam.

Now as she gears up to start her summer associate position at Knight and Day, thanks in larger part to a stellar recommendation from Fitz, she and Frankie have decided to pay it forward. Tomorrow is the first day of summer session and the mother daughter pair have prepared a feast for the tall, handsome dirty blonde man. Cupcakes with prepared by seven year old hands, BBQ chicken, cornbread, and — as Francesca called it — cold salad (cole slaw); a far cry from his normal turkey and cheese sandwich.

"Do you like Mr. Fitz?" Frankie asks as a yawn ripples across her face. She pushes a coppery curl from her face.

Olivia pauses, brows crinkling together at her daughter's question. "Of course I do. We're friends." She takes the seat opposite her child and glances over the wide picnic basket. "It's time for someone's bath and then bed. After lunch tomorrow, we have to go see your grandma and grandpa."

"Is my dad going to be there?" Frankie asks as another yawn ripples through her tiny body.

A sigh saunters from Olivia's lips and she shakes her head at the thought of Jake. Since that fateful day in the hospital, he's been by roughly four times to see Frankie. Each time he brings with him some stupid expensive gift and twenty minutes of his time. Last time he gifted Frankie with a diamond pendant necklace Olivia deemed far too expensive for a seven year old to wear on the daily. Trying to get Frankie to take it off had caused so much havoc that Olivia eventually gave in and let her keep it. Then there'd been the iPad, a gift Olivia had already denied Frankie once, and the vanity set.

"Not Grandma and Grandpa Ballard, baby. We're going to see my parents: Grandma Maya and Grandpa Eli."

"Oh. Is Poppa gonna talk about dinosaurs again? He talks about them a lot and I just don't care."

Frankie's bluntness makes her mother laugh. Professor Pope apparently did not amuse his granddaughter. Olivia gets to her feet, pointing a finger in the direction of the bathroom. "Dinosaurs are cool," she offers.

"Yeah, but _all_ the time?" Frankie climbs to her feet and heads towards the bathroom with her mother. "At least Gigi will play makeover with me and watch Coco."

"I thought Pop played his records for you?"

"Yeah, but he won't let me touch them."

Yup, that sounds like her father.

They enter the bathroom and Olivia busies herself with running water and tying her own hair into a ponytail. Frankie peels off her own clothes and climbs into the warm water. Olivia follows behind seconds later, too tired tonight to bathe separately. She reaches around Frankie for their loofahs and hands one to her daughter.

"Wash up so I can wash and then braid your hair."

"Oh, mom," Frankie bemoans. "It's gonna hurt."

"You'll be fine, come on. I'll put it in two braids with ribbons, just like you like. It'll be nice and quick."

"You'll make it look nice for Mr. Fitz?" asks Frankie, surprising Olivia. She hadn't realised Frankie paid that much attention to their knight-in-shining suit.

"For Mr. Fitz?"

"Yeah, you should look nice, too. He likes you. He smiles a lot when you're in the room. I think he wants to be your boyfriend."

Olivia's eyes nearly bulge out of her head and she drops the loofah and bar of soap in hand, into the water. She's thankful that Frankie's not paying any attention to her, but rather to the copious amounts of body wash she's piling on her loofah. "What?"

"He's really nice to you and when we were in the hospital he told me how pretty and strong you are. Then when he brought me ice cream he brought you popcorn. You love popcorn. And I hear you talking to him on your phone at night."

Olivia sits still as she begins to follow her daughter's logic. In truth, she hasn't noticed all the things that Frankie has. Okay, sure without a lecture hall to yell at her in she has noticed just how attractive he is. Her mind has wandered and wondered what he'd look like beneath his cashmere sweaters, but it's all been harmless. The late night phone calls were just him checking in on Frankie...and her. Okay, so sometimes they divulged into coy chats and flirty banter, but he's her professor. Except he isn't, not any more.

"That's enough body wash, don't be wasteful," Olivia chides, snatching the bottle and earning a scowl. "Hurry up before we're both cranky." She takes the loofah from Frankie and washes the little girl's back; soap suds filling the tub thanks to copious amount of coconut scented wash Frankie's filled the rag with.

"He looks at your butt, too," Frankie finishes with a giggle.

Olivia's mouth drops open slightly and feels heat creep into her cheeks.

/

Fitz stretches at his desk, his fingers twitching towards his phone to text Olivia. He hasn't heard from her since they'd said goodnight hours ago and he just wants to know if she's okay. She'd seemed awkward on the phone, stumbling over her words and rushing through their conversation. He chalks it up to possible nerves since she starts her job tomorrow, but he doesn't know why; she's brilliant. She always has been his best student.

Except she isn't his student any more and as far as he knows, she won't be again. He knows it's frowned upon to date students, but he can't get her out of his head. And it isn't right. Their relationship would be extremely taboo and honestly, he can't see what she'd want in an old man like himself. He's nearing forty and has two teenagers, she's barely in her mid-twenties.

A knock on his door pulls him from his thoughts and his stomach rumbles. He needs to eat soon before he launches into two more hours of Torts.

"Come in," Fitz calls.

Immediately a smile spreads across his face.

"Hey Mr. Fitz," Francesca Pope calls. Her lips are thinner, her skin lighter, and her face a tad rounder, but the nonetheless the little girl is the spitting image of her mother.

"Hey!"

"Hi," Olivia echoes, she carries a large red picnic basket in hand.

"Hi," Fitz offers, his heart beating erratically. "What do I owe this lovely surprise to?"

"We brought you lunch!" Frankie announces cheerily, making herself at home. She's a far cry from the sick child cradled in her mother's arms he'd originally met weeks ago.

"Wow, you did?" He looks up at Olivia, shock on his face.

"We just wanted to say thank you for everything these last few weeks. You've been a godsend." she doesn't look up as she sets the basket in hand down in front of him on his desk.

Frankie jumps into one of the chairs that sits across from him and makes herself at home, leaning against the desk to rummage through the basket. She begins to relay the contents contained inside, but Fitz finds himself more focused on Olivia. Her cheeks swell into a smile and she keeps her gaze down.

Is she blushing?

"Frankie, get down. You don't climb on the furniture at home, you don't climb on it here." Olivia chastises and Fitz laughs.

"It's okay, it's nice to see she's okay." His eyes meet Olivia's and they share a gaze. He swears he sees it again — she's blushing.

Frankie rolls her eyes dramatically and jumps down, leaning against the desk. "Well, look at it Mr. Fitz! I made cupcakes!"

"You did? Well, can I have a cupcake before I eat everything else?"

"Noooo!" Frankie wags her finger. "You have to eat everything else first."

Fitz can't help but laugh at the little girl. She reminds him of his own daughter when she was that age.

"Well, I can't eat alone. And I definitely can't eat…" he opens the top of the basket and counts the cupcakes. His stomach rumbles as he looks at the chicken. "Twelve cupcakes all by myself. How can I convince you and your mom to stay and eat with me?"

"Oh, we already planned on it. I still haven't had a cupcake and it took me a _whole_ hour to make them." Frankie says.

Fitz smiles at her dramatics before looking up at Olivia.

"Yeah, there's plates and stuff at the bottom of the basket. I thought it'd be nice…" Olivia offers, their eyes meeting briefly before she's glancing down at her daughter, her hands tugging on the two french braids Frankie's hair is tied in.

They both look beautiful in their somewhat matching attire of summer dresses. While Olivia's dress is a pale blue, Frankie's is a bright pink.

"How about we find a spot to eat outside? I know just where there's the perfect picnic table."

/

"Simon says rub your stomach," Frankie says.

Fitz does as he's told, rubbing his stomach. Next to him Olivia does the same. They stand on the lawn near the Yates Field House, the leftovers of their picnic basket abandoned behind them.

"Now touch your nose!"

Fitz again moves to touch his nose, but Frankie and Olivia laugh. He stares in confusion with the tip of his finger on his nose. "What?"

"Simon didn't say." Olivia grins, winking at her daughter.

"Mommy wins!" Frankie announces.

"I feel like I've been duped." Incredulity spreads across Fitz's face as he glances between mother and daughter. "I don't believe it."

"Awww, poor baby…" Olivia teases.

Fitz gives her a crooked grin and she returns it with one of her own.

"Alright, can I have a cupcake _now?_ " Frankie asks, stomping back over to the picnic table. A bit of barbecue sauce sticks to her chin.

"It's up to Mr. Fitz. You made the cupcakes for him, after all," Olivia calls out, and Fitz shrugs his shoulders.

"Go—" he doesn't even have the chance to get the rest of the words out of his mouth because Frankie's already popped open the basket and has both hands inside, rummaging for a cupcake. "Woah there, Yogi, do I get some of that picnic basket?"

Frankie quirks an eyebrow in his direction. "What's a Yogi?" She asks, biting into the cake.

"It's a cartoon. It's from a while ago," he answers, trudging back to the basket. The sun beats down on the trio and Fitz feels a bit of sweat roll off his brow.

"How long of a while?" Frankie bites into the lopsided cupcake, frosting covering up the barbecue sauce.

"The 1960s."

"The 1960s? Woah, I think my Poppa was the only person alive then and he's old."

Olivia breaks out into laughter from besides him and then walks around the table to sit next to her daughter. "Poppa was alive in the sixties, but speaking of Poppa, we're gonna have to go soon."

A frown crosses Fitz's face at Olivia's words. He doesn't want either of them to go. Frankie waves her mom off and returns to her cupcake, leaving Fitz to reach for one of his own. He notes the sloppy icing and the kid sized finger prints in some of the icing and smiles.

Across from him, Olivia stares out into the distance.

"Nervous about tomorrow?" Fitz asks, biting into the cake. The taste does not match the presentation and he feels his taste buds smile at the treat. Her nerves are the only thing he can think of that is to blame for her inability to look him in the face today.

"A little. I wouldn't have gotten this associate position without you," Olivia answers. "I hadn't heard back from anyone until you put in a word for me."

Fitz shakes his head. "Not true. John was already prepared to hire you. He just called me to confirm you were as much of a genius in person as you are on paper. And you are."

The apples of Olivia's cheeks swell and she ducks her head. "I'm not."

"Don't be modest. John Knight doesn't like modest. Go in there like you own the place and you will."

"With as much trouble as I gave you the last few months, why'd you tell him I was such a good student?" Olivia asks, looking up.

"Because you were."

"I wasn't. I was constantly late, I yelled at you. I—"

"You had your reasons. I'm sorry I was an ass. I've been teaching long enough to know that not everything is what it seems and sometimes there's reasons behind behavior. I'm sorry I didn't ask sooner." He's apologized twenty times over and he'll continue to do so. He feels like shit knowing now why she's missed class or shown up late after the fact.

"Please don't apologise again. It's fine. You've done more than enough for me since."

"And you deserve it all." She looks up and their eyes meet, the conviction in his tone hopefully clear. He means every words; she deserves it all. He is in awe of her.

"Frankie asked me something last night while I was putting her to sleep…"

"Does this something have to do with me?" Fitz asks, never letting his gaze waver.

"Yeah, said she thinks you like me. Like a boyfriend likes a girlfriend."

Immediately his face turns bright red. He chances a glance at Frankie Pope to find her happily eating her cupcake and dancing in her seat. "Uhm, I…she…"

"She also said you look at my butt…"

If possible, Fitz turns a deeper shade of red. He should've known; children are extremely intuitive and Frankie Pope clearly is no different.

"Miss Pope, I'm so, so...I didn't. I'm not…" he fumbles with his words, embarrassed and completely out of sorts. He's been so inappropriately enamored with the woman in front of him that he hasn't realized just how far across the line he's gone. He's truly just wanted to be there for her. He feels compelled to take care of her and protect her — help her when no one else will. "Please, Miss…"

"It's Olivia, Fitz. And I, I like you, too. Like a girlfriend would like a boyfriend…"

Her words take him by surprise and his eyes widen. "What can we do about it? What should we do?"

"Well, I don't have a lot of free time and most of what I do have goes to this thing on the other side of me who thinks I can't see her stealing another cupcake."

From the corner of his eye, he can see Frankie's small hand sliding into the basket while thinking no one is looking. Fitz smiles at her antics before pulling his eyes away to find Olivia's again.

"Go out with me, Frankie or no Frankie?" he asks, unable to stop the hope in his voice.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do about it being a Frankie free date…" She turns shoo at her daughter's fingers and Fitz can't believe his luck.

He nearly does somersaults across the lawn, but instead settles for another bite of cupcake.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Yay another update when I should've been doing my actual work. Welp, that's life. This story is all fluff pretty much so nothing too dramatic happens here. Either way, I hope you enjoy. Next update is in the distance because I really need to do the work I should be doing.

Thanks for reading.

-M

* * *

Dressed in a navy suit with his dishwater blond hair, minus the one unruly curl that refuses to fall in line, slicked back, Fitz grins at his reflection in the mirror. He brushes off imaginary dirt from his shoulder and winks at his reflection. He looks damn good. Damn good and ready. Tonight is his first date with Olivia and he has everything planned to a T; flowers, food, music, and more. First, though, is dropping his daughter off at her Eighth Grade Farewell dance.

Originally, Mellie had been scheduled to drop Karen off with Fitz providing moral support and a yay or nay on Karen's makeup, but she'd called last minute to let Fitz know work wouldn't allow her to get away. That's become a running theme with Mellie when it comes to their kids; any time something big seems to be on the horizon, she throws herself into her work.

"Dad! Karen's having a meltdown!" The muffled and cracking voice of Jerry Grant sounds from the other side of the bathroom door.

Fitz sighs, taking one last look at his reflection. _Come on Grant, you can do this_ , he assures himself, pushing away from the sink. He exits the bathroom to find Jerry, his spitting image with ice blue eyes, leaned against his sister's bedroom door.

"What do you mean she's having a meltdown?"

"I mean she's gone full on spaz attack in there. She came out screaming about hating her dress and it not fitting right and said she didn't have boobs, blah blah blah." Jerry shrugs. "She said she isn't going now."

Fitz works a warm palm over his face, massaging his temples. He takes a deep breath and flashbacks briefly to his own adolescents, and his older sister's million meltdowns when it came to clothes, shoes, and makeups. Oh boy, he's in over his head and he doesn't need Jerry's unimpressed gaze to tell him so. It takes a minute, but he gathers his courage and trots over to Karen's door. He raises his fist to knock and his eyes glimpse the gold watched wrapped around his wrist. Shit. He has about forty minutes to talk Karen out of her bedroom, into the family car, to her dance, and then get to Olivia's.

"Kare…" he calls out, knocking.

"Go away, dad!" Karen responds.

"Karen, baby, what's wrong. Jer, said you don't want to go to the dance. I know that's not true, you've been looking forward to this for a while now, baby. We bought you that beautiful dress and those ridi-"

"I look stupid in these shoes, I look flat chested in this dress, and I'm not going!"

Fitz's face scrunches up at his daughter's choice of worries and he fights the urge to tell her that while his knowledge of the female anatomy is elementary, he's pretty sure she should be flat chested on thirteen. "Karen, come on now. I know you don't feel that way. Come on out, Kare Bear or let me in and we'll get you ready."

"No! I look like Shrek!"

Jerry snickers from his spot on the wall and Fitz narrows his eyes.

"Karen...come on, you know I have a date tonight and Jerry's going to his friend's. We can't do this. Now get dressed and lets go!"

"No!"

"Karen!" He huffs, fist hitting the door. "I'm coming in so you better be decent!" He tugs at the door expecting to find it locked, but instead it gives.

The bedroom is a contrast of girl child and young woman. The walls are a bright bubble gum pink and there's stuffed animals on almost every available surface. Posters of young pop stars Fitz couldn't name in a million years are tacked to the wall and a pile of clothes in the middle of the floor. On the bed in the corner of the room, Fitz sees his daughter curled into a ball. The sky blue, halter aline dress with a light tulle skirt he'd argued with Mellie over sits abandoned at the corner of the bed; Karen's still in her pajamas. The ire Fitz feels dissipates as he moves towards the bed. He picks up the delicate dress, the satin material soft against his fingers and sits down in its place.

"Kare Bear…"

"Go away, daddy. I'm not going. Jerry can go to his stupid friend's house and you can go on your stupid date and you both can leave me here!" she snaps.

It takes everything in Fitz not to let the growl buried deep in the back of his throat loose. He reminds himself that she's a frustrated young girl - his daughter - who's hurting right now. "Why don't you want to go, Kare."

Karen doesn't answer and Fitz takes a deep breath.

"She doesn't want to go because she looks like Shrek, you didn't hear her earlier dad? I kinda agree too." Jerry teases from the door.

Fitz turns to tell his son to shove it when a pillow flies at the door courtesy of Karen. Fitz finally gets a full look at his daughter and while she's the spitting image of her mother, minus the dirty blonde hair she sports, her makeup skills leave a lot to be desired. Smudged eyeshadow, liner, and whatever else women people on their faces blue together on her lips, cheeks, and forehead. She looks like she's played in her makeup, not tried to do it.

"Karen, what did you do to your face?"

"A full on Shrek," Jerry bites.

Another pillow flies in his direction, but Fitz catches it in time. "Jerry go call Mike's mom before I change my mind about you leaving tonight!"

Jerry does as he's told, laughing along the way. Once he's gone, Fitz turns his attention back to Karen.

"What happened with…" he waves his hand in the direction of Karen's face and for the first time notices the blue eyeshadow travelling up the side of her face.

"Mom was supposed to help me," Karen says. She frowns, looking down at the bedspread. "And since you won't let me wear makeup, I don't know what to do. I tried watching videos and nothing's helped."

Fitz nods. "Let me see a video and I'll try, how about that?" he suggest and the look on Karen's face tells him she'd rather die than let him experiment with her makeup on her.

"No offense, daddy, but if you wanted to read me the Constitution, then yeah, but makeup...you're wearing a red tie with a green shirt underneath a navy suit."

Fitz looks down at his getup and frowns. "No, this is navy, too. It's the monochrome look I read about in GQ. Idris Elba dresses like this."

Karen rolls her eyes. "No, dad, it's dark green. You're colorblind, remember?"

He narrows his eyes and holds up his shirt. It really looks blue! Well, he _is_ actually colorblind.

"Go put on a white shirt dad."

Fitz lets out a hot breath and checks his watch; twenty-nine minutes until he's set to meet Olivia.

Olivia.

A light bulb goes off in his head and he grins at Karen. "How about I go change my shirt to a white shirt, you put your dress back in its bag, grab your makeup and we go get you ready?"

"What?"

"I have someone who can help us," he tells Karen, digging his phone out of his back pocket. "And don't worry, it's a woman so she'll know what to do."

Karen eyes her father with a raised brow.

"I promise," Fitz assures her as he hops to his heels, thumb already running across his phone screen.

/

"My dad was going to actually try this himself," Karen says as Olivia runs a blush brush along her left cheek.

The young girl's words cause a laugh to fall from Olivia's lips. She shakes her head at the thought of her former professor following the latest MUA tutorial to set the internet ablaze.

"Your dad can barely write on a chalkboard. I would've paid to see that." Olivia jokes as she turns away from Karen. Next to her stands a diligent Frankie, a tube of mascara in her tiny hand.

"Ooooh, she looks pretty mommy," Frankie comments, "can Aunt Abby do my makeup later?"

"No, baby. Your skin is too delicate for heavy stuff like this, but if you're good, Aunt Abby can paint your nails." Olivia trades the blush brush for the tube of mascara and looks up at Abby who has a curling iron in one hand and a fistful of Karen's hair in the other. Together they're helping Karen Grant get ready for her dance. Admittedly, she'd been hesitant when Fitz had first called, the panic high in his tone as he begged her to help him help his daughter, but nearly an hour later, Karen Grant was almost set and ready to go.

"When mommy leaves, Poppy, you can do my makeup," Abby says, earning a scowl from Olivia.

"What? You said _she_ couldn't wear makeup. And she won't. Now let me have fun with my niece."

Karen laughs from her chair. "Thanks so much, Miss Abby, Miss Olivia. When my dad said he knew someone I thought he was going to drag me to my aunt's. I love my aunt, but she's a bit...old fashioned and she would've done things her way. My mom probably would've too now that I think about it."

Olivia simply nods, though a thousand questions swirl in her mind at the mention of Fitz's ex-wife. She feels like she's at a disadvantage here. He knows about Jake in detail and he's barely talked about … Melanie? Melody? Millicent? Whatever her name is, Olivia feels a pang of inadequacy when she thinks of what she knows of the woman. A name partner of a big firm, a mother, and according to Fitz, a budding politician. How did she, a law student and summer associate, stack up?

"No need to thank me," Abby says as she lets a few loose curls slip through her fingers.

"Yeah, it's honestly no issue at all, Karen. Just a few more touches and you're good to go." Olivia waves to Frankie, motioning for her to grab the tube of red lipstick sitting on the edge of the dresser. Frankie moves as fast as her little feet will carry her and with one flick of the wrist and pin of curls later, Karen Grant is ready to go.

"Stay here and let me go ready your dad." Olivia says.

"You look like Cinderella." Olivia hears Frankie say as she shuts her bedroom door behind her.

She finds Fitz sitting at the kitchen table she and Frankie do their homework on. He leafs through an old People Magazine and the sight of him makes Olivia's flutter. He's so handsome in his navy suit and white button up sans a tie. He looks like he's just walked off the cover of GQ.

"Hi," she says, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.

"Hi," Fitz answers, looking up from the magazine and climbing to his feet. "You look great."

Olivia's cheeks swell and her face flushes. She's dressed in a form fitting a-line white mini dress Abby swears is identical to Cher's in Clueless that sits just above her knees, giving her the appearance of long legs. Her feet are tucked into three-inch, black ankle strap sandals and her hair bounces in tight, perfectly coiffed curls. She'd been hesitant to wear her hair natural on their first date, but had decided to go for it after hearing Frankie tell Abby that she wanted straight hair because straight hair was prettier. Minus a bit of highlighter, eyeliner, and mascara, Olivia's face is bare of most makeup. A delicate gold chain with two hearts on it sits around her neck.

"You do, too," she says, unable to stop the slightly goofy smile that spreads across her face. "Karen's ready if you are."

"I, I am. And I'm so thankful to you and Abby for doing this. Her mom was supposed to, but things happened at work and Karen held a meltdown about boobs and I was in over my head."

Olivia laughs, thinking about the padded bra of hers Karen is currently wearing. The young girl had been right about the top of her dress not fitting well and confessed to forgetting her push-up bra at her mother's house (while also being too afraid to ask her father to go get it).

"It's no problem, honestly. You've done more than enough for me, I'm glad I get to repay you."

"I told you, you don't ever have to repay me," Fitz says. He tucks his hands into his trouser pockets and Olivia bites her bottom lip, stifling a _damn._

She turns away from him and back towards her bedroom door. "Karen, you ready?" she calls. Instead of a verbal answer, her bedroom door opens.

Flanked by Frankie on her left and Abby on her right, Karen exits the bedroom. Her dirty blonde hair is in loose waves that are pinned to the side by a silver. She wears a subtle blue eyeshadow that fades into two perfect brows. Her eyes are perfectly lined, her lashes extended well beyond their natural length, and her lips pop with a subtle red lipstick. The halter fits nice and snug, thanks to Olivia, and the skirt is nice and full.

"How do I look daddy?" Karen asks Fitz.

A large grin beams on Fitz's face. "Like I'm gonna have to carry a gun tonight."

"Daddy!" Karen chides.

"Mr. Fitz!" Frankie yells, running towards Fitz at full speed. She slams into his leg and Olivia's heart melts as he lifts her up onto his hip. "I helped. I held the brushes and the mascara!"

"You did?" Fitz asks.

Olivia's smile only widens at the interaction and she catches Abby watching the interaction with a hand on her hip and smirk on her lips.

"I did! You did great, Frankie. She looks amazing."

"Does mommy?" Frankie asks, looking back at Olivia. Once again, Olivia's cheeks swell with embarrassment. "She's letting her hair be natural. Like mine."

"I like it natural. Like yours. Now...we really should get going. We're…" he jostles Frankie against his hip as he finds his free hand and glances down at his watch. "fifteen minutes late so it'll be about thirty when we get there and...Olivia and I will have to find a different restaurant to eat at."

"I can make us pop tarts!" Frankie offers and the room erupts in laughter.

"Why don't you get down Poppy and let mom, Mr. Fitz, and Karen get going?" Abby suggests, motioning for Frankie to get down.

Frankie frowns as she wiggles free from Fitz's hold and hits the floor.

"Baby, will you go grab mommy's jacket from the bed?" Olivia asks her daughter. Begrudgingly the seven year old does.

"Hey, Liv, Karen and I are going to wait for you in the car. Okay?"

Olivia nods as 1/3rd of the Grant family disappears, the door falling shut with a soft thud behind them. Seconds later Frankie reappears, Olivia's black blazer in hand.

"Be good for Aunt Abbie, Francesca," Olivia warns as she bends down to kiss her daughter. The young girl yawns and nods, the night's events have clearly tuckered her out. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mommy."

"Abby, you-"

"Olivia, I've watched her more than once; hell, I was there when you had her. I know the deal. Now go," the redhead seizes her friend's wrist and drags her in the direction of the door. She lowers her voice and leans down so only Olivia can hear her. "And if you need to take some extra time out tonight, run a little late than midnight, I completely understand."

Olivia pulls a face in confusion.

"Don't play stupid with me, Pope. Go get you some d-i-c-k."

Olivia's mouth falls open and she casts a glance back at Frankie to see if the little girl is paying attention, when she realizes she isn't, she smacks Abby on the arm. "Abby!"

"What? You forget, I know the last time you were laid. There are cobwebs down there and that's not sanitary! Plus, now that he isn't being an a-s-s. Jump on it." Abby teases, throwing an imaginary lasso over her head.

"I'm done with you." Olivia pulls away from her friend and walks over to the kitchen table to grab her purse. "Frankie, I love you."

Frankie doesn't answer, she's completely engrossed with something on the TV.

"All I'm saying, Liv, is that that dress with those shoes says f-u-c-k me."

Olivia doesn't respond, she exits her apartment in a huff, slamming the door shut behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Grad school is killing me. Send help (but I hope you enjoy in the meantime). Idk when i'll get to write again, I shouldn't have even wrote this.

* * *

With Karen tucked away safely inside the dance, Fitz makes a beeline for his Mercedes. A large grin spreads across his lips as he catches sight of Olivia in the passenger's seat, mirror flipped open, tugging on one of her curls. She's absolutely gorgeous and he has no idea how they're going to make it across town on a Saturday night in time to make their dinner reservations, but even if they don't, he'll still be grateful for the time they've spent together already.

He slides into the car and shuts the door behind him, taking a deep breath. "Well, teenage life crisis averted."

Olivia chuckles and the swell of her cheeks causes his heart to skip. "I'm trying to remember if I was that dramatic at thirteen," she says as she closes the visor. "I don't know how I'll survive when Frankie hits that age."

"Valium?" Fitz jokes.

"Wine, lots of it," Olivia responds.

They exchange laughs for a few moments before claps his hands on the wheel and then checks his watch. Four minutes until their reservation is late. He frowns, scrunching his face. "Well, it looks like we're going to miss dinner at 1789."

"It's okay. Your daughter is more important. Plus, Frankie offered to make us pop tarts."

Again, they share a couple of laughs before Fitz's thoughts wade into murky waters. Why couldn't his ex-wife have had that same thought? "Yeah, wish her mom would've considered that, too." The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them.

Olivia gives him a small smile and reaches over to pat his forearm. "I stopped asking why people wouldn't want to be around their kids ages ago. What matters is that you came through for Karen. You saved the day. She'll always remember that."

"Begging your date to save you from a teen girl's hormones isn't really saving the day, is it?"

"It is, though. And like I said, I was more than happy to help. You've done so much for me and for Frankie. Plus, Karen's a sweetheart." She squeezes his forearm and Fitz feels his heart flutter.

He tilts his head up to meet her gaze and her eyes sparkle beneath her long lashes. Olivia Pope is so damn beautiful that she's close to taking his breath away. If they weren't in a middle school parking lot, he'd have half the mind to lean over and claim those shimmering lips. He lets go of the wheel and lets his fingers find a way to hers. Gently, he squeezes her hand, thanking her without being too forward. Hopefully they'll have all night for him to find the right words, the right caresses.

But first, they need to find somewhere new to eat. He lets her hand go and instantly misses their warmth. "So, I can either call 1789 and try to have them extend our reservation or we can try and find somewhere else to eat. What do you say?" He asks as he settles his hand on the wheel once more.

"Well, I know a couple of good restaurants up near U Street? Have you ever—"

A tap on his car window causes them both to jump. Fitz turns to see Mrs. Messer, Karen's instructor, knocking on his window. She's a portly woman, older with graying hair. She wears a wide smile and stiff curls.

"Mr. Grant," she calls through the glass.

Fitz turns the keys in the ignition and rolls down the window. "Yes?"

"Mr. Grant, one of our parent chaperons appears to be running late and we were wondering if you'd be able to just lend us a hand for say a few minutes or so?" Mrs. Messer asks.

Immediately a grimace spreads across Fitz's face. He rubs the back of his neck and looks over at Olivia. "Mrs. Messer, I kinda have –" he gaze lingers towards Olivia.

"Oh, dear, I didn't realise. I'm…oh tough. I'm sorry for the intrusion, Mr. Grant. We'll…"

Olivia clears her throat in the seat next to him. "I'd be okay with staying for a minute or two, Fitz. We've probably already lost our reservation anyways. We can hang around for a few."

"Are you sure?" Fitz raises his brows, searching Olivia's face for any hint that she's uncertain. He can see a twitch of nervousness tug at her eyes, but she seems more than okay with this.

"I'm certain."

"Thirty-minutes tops, Mr. Grant. Thirty-minutes tops."

/

Twenty-five minutes later, Fitz brings Olivia another cup of punch, he keeps his eyes trained on the almost empty dance floor. The latest in the Top 40 blares. It seems as if the teenage jitters are getting the best of everyone tonight. Karen and her friends stand in a circle talking and giggling as a groups of boys stand nearby.

"Five minutes and we blow this popsicle stand," Fitz whisper-shouts into Olivia's ear as she takes the punch. She smells like a hint of lavender as his lips inadvertently brush against the outer shell of her ear, but his eyes miss her shiver as he steps back against the wall next to her.

"You sure you're not having fun in a place that smells like teen spirit?" Olivia shoots back, drawing a sip of punch.

"They're so…teenaged." He laughs, watching as a kid swings his arms wildly on the floor before he's joined by a few other students.

"Nah, not fully. They're that horrible age between tween and full on teen so it's all just a lot of nerves right now. Nerves and puberty. But on the plus side, Karen looks great. And she might just be getting a dance."

Fitz's eyes snap up to see some brace faced blonde boy rocking a button down and shell necklace touch one of Karen's loose waves. His eyes narrow and he takes a step forward. Olivia grabs his wrist.

"Remember what she said when we came in here. We're to be invisible. Well, _you_ are. _I_ can do whatever I want because I'm the cool one."

Fitz relaxes and settles back against the wall. "She only said that because you're clearly the better looking one of the two of us here."

Olivia's cheeks swell as she peers at him over the red punch cup. "Definitely not going to disagree with that, but you're wearing that suit, Mr. Grant."

It's Fitz's turn to blush and his face turns red. He forgets about Karen and brace face, turning on his side to indulge himself in Olivia's presence. She has no idea how thankful he is for her at this moment. Not only because she's a sight for sore eyes, but also because she's been so selfless when it comes to his kids – well, kid tonight, too.

"I was already going to buy you dessert, you don't have to flirt extra hard to get it. Plus, you're still the better looking one."

She tilts her body towards his, too, mimicking his stance, which causes her dress to dip just a bit. The dress fits her like a glove and he's had a hard time keeping his eyes. But he's currently feeling daring and allows his gaze to drop pointedly. He sweeps his eyes up from the strappy sandals on her feet to the barren expanse of her shiny brown legs and up to the hem of her dress. He watches as it stretches over her hips, cinches in at her waist, and pushes her breasts up perfectly. Once more his eyes wash over her lips and then settle on her eyes.

She's grinning, hard. "You're shameless, Mr. Grant."

"I just might be, I'd love for you to find out." He takes a step forward and reaches out to tuck a curl behind Olivia's ear, they're barely a foot apart when Mrs. Messer steps in front of them.

"Mr. Grant!" The older woman nearly shouts and Fitz takes a hurried step back. "Hi, hello, Mr. Grant and…" She waves towards Olivia.

"Olivia."

"Olivia, yes. I've just heard from Mrs. Kennedy. She'll be here in about twenty minutes. You two are more than welcome to run off to your evening now, but Mr. Grant, make I ask one more favor?"

Fitz's heart rises and falls simultaneously. He can stop the exasperated sigh that slips from his lips before he forces a tight smile. He feels Olivia tug on his blazer and his smile loosens. "Yes, Mrs. Messer?"

"Can you be a dear and run next door into the school and go to the first floor utility closet, the one across from the attendance office, you know where the class photos are, and grab a sleeve of plastic cups? I don't see how catering didn't bring enough, but I trust you still know where the office and what not is?"

The first word that pops into Fitz's mind is 'no' the second is 'hell.' Doesn't he pay Karen's tuition to avoid situations like these? He turns to look at Olivia who once again gives him an approving smile, her tiny hand still hanging on the bottom of his blazer.

"Of course, Mrs. Messer," he grits out through nearly clenched teeth.

Mrs. Messer claps her palms together before slipping a hand into her pocket and pulling out a ring of keys. She points to a brass key with a blue 2 on it. "This one opens the closet. Thank you, Mr. Grant!" She doesn't bother to look back as she bounces off to a group Fitz recognizes as teaches of various subjects. They all seem to be nice and relaxed and he rolls his eyes at them.

"Livvie, I'll be right back. And when I get back, _we're_ leaving," he tells Olivia.

"Want me to come with you?" She asks from beneath her lashes with her bottom lip stuck between her teeth.

He shrugs. "If you want."

/

Olivia follows behind Fitz, her hand tucked in his as they make their way inside of the lavish, private k-12 school. She can't help but watch his strides as they go. He's been on her mind in ways she'd rather not articulate since Abby placed that seed in her head a couple of hours ago. Try as she might, she can't get it out. What's been even worse is knowing these thoughts are in her head while she's surrounded by barely teens. Damn Abby and her dirty mind.

So what if it's been nearly four years, the red head didn't need to bring it up.

The school is eerily quiet as they finally reach the closet. Fitz lets go of Olivia's hand as he moves to find the keys the older woman had given him minutes ago.

Olivia wanders away to inspect their space. They're in a long hallway with pictures galore tacked to the walls, some dating back to the early nineteen hundreds from what Olivia can tell. Across from the pictures sits a wide open office space with see through shutters pulled down. Curiosity gets the better of her and Olivia follows the pictures, the names and years, realizing that she's seen double and triple of the same name. Legacy schools started earlier, clearly.

She stops as she reaches a woman that looks oddly like Fitz's daughter, except she has chestnut brown hair. Briefly she wonders if this picture is of Fitz's ex-wife, but her eyes keep moving. They go down until she stops on a golden haired boy with a lopsided grin and barely there eyebrows. Beneath the picture reads 'Fitzgerald T. Grant III.' Her mouth curls into a smile and she looks down the hall at the open closet door.

"What's the T for?" Olivia shouts down the hall before making her way back to the open closet door. Fitz comes into view, jacket hanging on the doorknob as he stretches to reach a box marked 'CUPS.'

"The what?" he asks.

Olivia nearly forgets her question as she see the shirt stretch over his shoulders and grip the muscles in his back and arms. Who the hell would've ever known Professor Grant is ripped beneath the sweaters and button-ups? She blinks hard to stop staring and shakes her head. "The T, in your name."

He growls as his heels hit the ground and he brings down the box. "Thomas. Wait. Where…oh the wall of fame. You saw my picture?"

She nods form her position at the closet door.

"My ex-wife is up there, too. And if you go down the hall and out the door, across campus, to the high school, you'll find my picture a few more times. I wish you wouldn't though. Then you'll know that I wasn't too cool in high school." He stands up, curl slopping against his forehead.

Olivia snorts. "Teen mom here. You don't need to tell me about cool. Though I do think you're lying."

"You do?" he asks, hands on his hips and stance wide.

Her heart beat quickens and she really wishes he'd stop giving her that stupid grin all night. That lopsided grin that makes her want to kiss him silly. That lopsided grin that makes her want to scream 'I dressed for you because my seven-year-old said you look at my butt! I dressed for you because I want you!'

She clears her throat. "I do. You were probably a jock, super smart. Might still be President of the United States one day…"

Fitz chuckles and walks towards her. "I saw my father in the California governor's mansion as a kid, definitely don't want to be president or governor etcetera, of anything." He reaches for his jacket and suddenly they're impossibly close, again. Like moments ago on the outskirts of the dance floor.

Olivia's eyes are hopeful as they meet his and she feels her chest rise and fall. The air between them sparks with promise as he retracts his hand and she swears she sees his crotch twitch. She bites her bottom lip and Abby's voice is in her head again, followed by her own.

 _Four years._

"God you look good tonight." Olivia nearly moans and before she can realise what she's doing – what they're doing – she's in his arms, back against the now closed closet door.

His kiss is hard, rough as his hands slid up her sides and his chest presses into hers. His tongue plunges into her mouth and her tongue slides against his. Her fingers find his head and ruffling his hair, tugging on the partially straight, partially curling strands. Long sighs and heavy panting fill the air as Olivia feels one of his thighs slide between her legs and then both of her thighs are draped over his hips.

Their bodies work on their volition, mouths silencing any thoughts they have. Olivia grinds against him, dress up around her waist, the silk between her legs dampening. He bucks into her, all too happy to oblige as she encourages him to move.

They're close to imploding.

 _So close_ that the knock on the door startles them apart and sends them both to the ground in a collapsed heap of mangled limbs. Fitz knocks over a stack of mops and brooms that clatter to the floor and closet door squeaks open, and Olivia scrambles to stay behind it, trying the best she can to tug her dress down as she goes.

"Mr. Grant, Mrs. Messer sent me to see if you got lost!" A light, boyish voices says.

"Hey, uhm…Joshua, right? Josh. Hamilton, Kevin's boy, right?" Fitz speaks, snapping his fingers. Olivia can see him on the other side of the door on the floor, face beat red and pants clearly tinted.

"Yeah, Mr. Grant."

"Will you take these cups to Mrs. Messer and tell her I had to leave?" He reaches behind him and grabs a sleeve of plastic cups wrapped in cellophane and hands them to the boy Olivia can't see.

"Sure. Hey, you alright, dude sir?"

"I'm just fine. Go back to the dance."

If Joshua suspects something, he doesn't say anything.

The door shuts once more and Olivia slides out from behind it. Her chest is still heaving, her lips are swollen and there's a couple of specks of dirt on her dress. "Joshua Hamilton did not believe a word of that," she tells Fitz as she gets to her feet, finally able to pull her dress all the way down. Her mind is running on pure adrenaline and she's yet to asses her actions.

Fitz follows and climbs to his feet, erection clear as day. "And why not?"

"There's lip gloss all over your face."

For the third time that night, they share a good laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** This is so short, but this is the most writing i've done for fun in a while. I'll try to get something else updated later.

 **EDIT:** To the person who said things aren't adding up and that the Popes are suddenly rich/affluent - they've always been rich and affluent. Olivia, however, isn't. When she became pregnant, her parents pulled their financial support as a way to teach her a lesson, hence why she lives in a one bedroom apartment and metros it to school/work. She refuses to ask them for help. Why they're helping now will be explained later.

* * *

A yawn escapes Olivia's throat as she stretches in her chair. Today marks her first full month at Knight and Day, LLC. Lately, her life seems to be in full swing. Everything seems to be falling into place. Healthy daughter: check. Dream job: check. Hunky boyfriend: double check. Just thinking about Fitz brings a smile to Olivia's face. Surprisingly enough, he's her first official boyfriend. Getting pregnant in high school limited her dating options and most men don't really stick around after she tells them about Frankie. She doesn't count the brief few weeks she'd been under Jake's spell in high school, either. Yes, life is looking up, even though the weather outside is looking down.

D.C summers are often hot and oppressive. Today, the weather chooses to add volatile on top of that. Lightning strikes the sky and thunder shakes her office building. The train ride home is going to be hell. Tomorrow is her first day off, too and unfortunately, she'll be spending it at the Ballard residence. Monthly dinners with Martha and Simon Ballard are always a drag, a necessary evil in order to ensure Frankie's tuition to Sidwell is paid. Jake's check helps Olivia cover Navy Yard rent while in school. While Simon and Martha aren't awful people, their son is another story. The thought of sitting down across from Jake and his fiancée is nauseating. Vanessa is a pretty woman, but only on the surface; her mere presence grates Olivia nerves.

Outside rain beats down on the windows. Olivia watches, arms folded across her chest debating on calling an Uber. Her cellphone rings, drawing her attention away from the windows. She picks up her phone, a smile immediately brightening her features as she realizes it's Fitz..

"Hi," she answers, unable to stop the happiness from permeating her voice.

"Hi," Fitz replies. "How's my pretty girl?"

Olivia blushes. "Tired, ready to go home, but waiting. There's a storm outside and I don't feel like walking to the Farragut in rain. I've gotta grab Frankie from my parents' house, too, first." The Popes lived in Dupont, not too far from where Knight and Day is. Since telling her parents about her job, they've been surprisingly supportive of both Olivia and Frankie.

"What if I say I'm outside?"

"I'd say you're crazy. You have class tonight, mister," Olivia teases.

"I canceled due to the crappy weather."

"Are you really outside?" she asks. She can feel her heart flutter in her chest. Ever since that night in the closet, she and Fitz have been on cloud nine. Night walks, candlelight dinners…they've done it all except for hitting the sheets. They've come close, turning nights out into glorious make out sessions in the back of Fitz's Mercedes, but they've always _just_ stopped. Something in Olivia keeps pulling back. She's only had sex a handful of times and admittedly, she's nervous.

"I am," his baritone voice sounds through the phone. "Well, now I'm technically around the block. Finding a parking spot here is nearly impossible."

Something between a giggle and chortle leaves Olivia's lips. "I'll be down in five."

/

They move through the rainy D.C streets. Fitz's right hand rests on Olivia's thigh. Heat tints her cheeks. Her thoughts are far from pure as she guides him to her parents' house. They're seconds from picking up her daughter and she can't stop thinking about how badly she wants to straddle Fitz; how she wishes he'd slides the fingers that dance along her thigh up just the slightest to the juncture of her thighs.

The royal purple sweater he wears clings to him like a glove. The muscles in his neck strain as he moves the wheel. Somehow, some way she's determined to get over her fear and just _fuck him._

"Which house?"

Olivia blinks hard, realizing that they're nearing her parents Victorian row house. She closes her mouth and takes a minute, refocusing her attention. She takes a deep breath and smiles awkwardly. "Uhm, the third from the last, with the red door. You can pull front. I'll run in and get her."

Fitz does as she instructs. He puts the car into park and turns to her. "Don't the Obamas live around here? He asks.

"They live in Kalorama."

"Which is five minutes to the left of us. Your parents live near them."

"Actually, the Obamas live near my parents. My parents have been here since before I was born." Her small hand rests on the door, ready to pull it open.

"Your parents must be important people."

Olivia rolls her eyes and the chuckles. "Your father was a governor. _You've_ met the Obamas."

"Well, yeah, but…" He doesn't get to finish his sentence.

Olivia pulls up her jacket hood and rushes out the car door. She nearly slips on the wet pavement as she runs toward the house, but catches herself. Her heels click against the stone porch. She raises her hand to knock on the door, rain dripping down her coat when the door opens. In front of her stands Eli Pope. He raises an eyebrow, glancing behind Olivia toward Fitz's idling car.

Olivia tries to pay him no mind, not wanting to discuss her love life with her father. "Hey, dad, is Frankie ready? She asks.

Eli's sharp brown falls slightly and he ushers Olivia into the house. "We were hoping you'd stay for dinner."

Taken aback by her father's question, Olivia's face scrunches. "Really? Why?"

"Don't be so surprised. You are our daughter. We just figured with the rain, you'd want a home cooked meal."

Olivia tilts her head. She wonders what's gotten into her father. On the days they've watched Frankie for her, he always has something to say about the way she parents.

"But I see you have a . . . _friend_ out there," he says. His tone is combative, almost as if he's searching for a fight. Now that is the father Olivia knows. "That looks like a _man's_ car."

Instead of taking the bait, Olivia turns her attention back towards her daughter. "Francesca?" Olivia yells. "Frankie, mommy's here."

The pitter-patter of little feet across hardwood floor echoes around the large house. In seconds Frankie comes into view. Two long plaits roll down her shoulders and she's in a set of pajamas Olivia doesn't remember buying for her.

"Hey bug, go get your things so we can go."

"Can I stay? Me and Grandma are having a marathon." Frankie asks.

Olivia looks back at her dad. "What?"

"A marathon, mom. We're watching the Descendants."

Maya Pope appears behind her granddaughter seconds later. The pajamas she wears are identical to Frankie's. "We can keep her, Livvie. We don't mind."

Olivia looks back to her father who nods his approval. Bewilderment moves across her face. She doesn't understand. Her parents have never been this amenable or openly warm when it comes to Frankie. Are they turning over a new leaf?

"You both want to watch Frankie overnight?" She can stop the skepticism that seeps into her voice.

"We know how to raise a kid," Maya growls. Now that is more like her parents.

"Please, mom. Pleaseeee." Frankie asks, lips full on pouting.

"I guess. I mean…yeah. If it's ready with Pop-pop."

"Of course it is. She's my granddaughter."

/

She reaches the car after bidding farewell to Frankie, hugging her daughter tightly and promising to pick the young girl up first thing in the morning.

"Where's Frankie?" Fitz asks as she slides back into the passenger's seat.

"My parents wanted her to stay."

"They're really starting to step up, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I think so. Ever since I started at Knight and Day, their attitude towards Frankie's shifted. I still get jabs from my dad and attitude from my mom, but they're spoiling Frankie." She shrugs, hiding the hurt in her eyes. Not that she didn't love the fact that her parents were welcoming Frankie into the fold, but because they were still somewhat callous towards her.

"So then what do you want to do?" Fitz leans back against the driver's seat. He throws her his famous crooked smile. "I'd planned on taking you and Frankie home, maybe ordering a pizza and just enjoying your company. Watch a movie or two."

 _God this man is perfect. He even cares about Frankie,_ she thinks. "We can still do that, but now the movies don't have to be PG…" Olivia says. Her heart begins to race at the mere thought of being all alone with him.


End file.
